


(G)old(en) Advice

by PizzaHorse



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Advice, Bad Advice, Denial of Feelings, Developing Friendships, Domestic, Duck - Freeform, Ducks, Emotions, Feelings Realization, Female Characters, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships, Love, Phone Calls & Telephones, Realization, Relationship Advice, Strong Female Characters, Stupidity, Texting, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, budding friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 22:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PizzaHorse/pseuds/PizzaHorse
Summary: Webby needs advice on something personal, so she turns to the second strongest woman she knows.





	(G)old(en) Advice

**Author's Note:**

> AKA Goldie O’Gilt yammers about how much she loves Scrooge McDuck.
> 
> That title can be read at least 4 different ways.

Webby Vanderquack had never done anything bad in her life. Aside from the unfortunate incidents at Funso's, anyway. She had everything she needed, and a gentle and considerate grandmother who was always open for her to confide in. She was raised on kindness and caring and positive reinforcement. She had no need to be bad.

So stealing Scrooge's cell phone was very out of the ordinary, even if she returned it before he even noticed. She just needed one thing.

_Is this Goldie O'Gilt?_

Trembling fingers typed out the full name and hit  _send_  on the message.

_Who is this?_

_Webby Vanderquack._

She wondered, too late, if she should have written the full  _Webbigail_  instead.

_Look, if you're trying to track me via cell phone location, it won't work. Do I owe you money?_

_I'm a relation of Scrooge McDuck._

Part true. She was not a relation in the family sense, not technically. She was not  _related_ , per-se. But she knew him, in a very familial way, in a not-quite-but-basically adopted sort of way. A way which would take far too long to explain.

No reply.

_You tied me up after Glomgold's party._

_The big one or the small one?_

_The small one._

_How did you get this number?_

_From Scrooge._

Just a small fib.

_Why would Scrooge give my number to a child?_

_I need your help._

_Scroogey in trouble? Because he can handle himself._

_No. Me. I'm in trouble._

_Why are you asking me?_

That was a great question. Why, in this hour of need, had she sought the help of such a conniving, unpredictable felon? Especially one who had broken into Scrooge McDuck's home and shoved her and her grandma in a closet. Webby should have feared such a person, and stayed as far away from her as possible. But Webby had a hard time being afraid, and also, she was very very intrigued by the ways of Goldie O'Gilt, and maybe a certain young Vanderquack secretly admired her independence and devil-may-care attitude.

But the question remained, and after several moments of thought, Webby decided to try a tactic that (hopefully) involved flattery, and also some personal assumptions about Scrooge's elusive and mysterious possible girlfriend.

_You probably know a lot about relationships._

_What makes you think that?_

The reply was quick, curt, and the tone over text was impossible to read. Had Webby offended her in some way, or was that Goldie's signature playful sass behind the message? A dozen different inflections burned in Webby's mind, but there was no way to figure out the correct one. She'd just have to hope the response was meant to be positive.

_You and Scrooge had a… thing._

Well, it was more than one thing. Over the years they had had several things, on again and off again, at least as far as rumors went. Goldie appeared, disappeared, and reappeared several times throughout Scrooge's history, and she'd recently turned up again at his house. Scrooge had her number, so they were at least familial enough to keep in touch, although how often they'd been in contact prior to recent events was unknown. But they had  _something_ , because Goldie came looking for  _him_ , and the most recent time could not have been the first and likely wouldn't be the last.

Webby stared at her phone for several minutes, wondering if she'd finally said the wrong thing. Wondering if maybe Goldie missed the message and she should write something else as a reminder to respond. But she had no idea what Goldie was up to, what situation she might be in, or even what time it might be. Maybe Goldie was busy fighting a monster or digging up a treasure or taking a nap. Webby didn't know, and she didn't want to bother, but every moment that went by was agonizingly slow.

Phone still clutched in her hand, Webby face planted on her bed and groaned. This was all such a bad, awful idea, and she couldn't imagine why she'd even considered it in the first place. Maybe Goldie had grown tired of responding to a child. Sure, Webby was smart, and bright, but she was still  _decades_  behind Goldie O'Gilt in age.

Suddenly, the device in her hand started to buzz, and the screen lit up, displaying the name Webby had already saved in her contacts:  _Goldie O'Gilt_.

Webby leapt up, the phone slipping from her hands and flipping several times through the air before she caught it again. Her heart was pounding, wondering if Goldie was calling her by mistake or if she really thought her inquiry was important enough for a phone call. The fact that she might think  _Webby_  herself was important enough for a phone call was shocking enough.

 _Beep_. "Hello?"

"This isn't Scrooge playing some elaborate prank because he misses me, right?"

"Uh… no?"

"Good. Let's get one thing straight. I'm helping you because I'm bored, have nothing better to do, and I'm still not sure of your relation to Scrooge McDuck. It's also nice to chat with someone who I, for once, do not owe anything of monetary value. I'm not your friend, and we may not ever speak again after this conversation. Lastly, kid, this better not lead to some "Grandma Goldie" or other familial nonsense."

"I already have a grandmother."

"Good. What do you want?"

The young duckling noted that Goldie had skipped over her last question altogether, but decided it was best to stick to why she'd contacted her in the first place, rather than pressure her with silly queries.

"I think I'm in love, but I don't know how to tell. What does being in love  _feel_  like?"

"That's really the first one you're going to hit me with? I suppose I should have guessed from the other questions," she chuckled from the other end of the line. "That's a tough one. You'd think a bird my age would have been in love several times over. But the truth is, I don't know if I've ever been in love. So this advice will probably be bad.

"Sometimes, I think that I am, or maybe that I was, in love at some point. But every time I get close to someone, every time we're about to share a truly intimate bonding experience of any kind, something inside of me tells me to  _run_. Well, not  _just_  to run, of course, obviously I have to filch anything valuable that will fit on my person, but then I run. I run for a long time, longer than I probably have to, and I keep doing it over and over again. I'm not afraid of getting caught. Hah, as if. But there's a possibility that I am afraid of commitment.

"Not commitment, exactly, but the things that come with it. I know that I don't have to settle down and I can keep adventuring and maybe whoever I found to be with would enjoy adventuring too. But I've had so many close calls in my time, far more than I can count. I'm not afraid of death, or dying, or any of that. Not for myself, anyway. But when somebody else worries about you, or when you worry about someone else, it's entirely different.

"It's simultaneously wanting to share every adventure with them, and secretly fearing for their safety every time they do. If they're at home, and you're out adventuring, who's keeping them safe? You're not. And meanwhile, they're busy worrying whether or not you'll come home this time. But if they're with you on the exploration, how can you have any regard for your own safety when you're too busy worrying about someone else?

"It's just  _easier_ not to get attached. Maybe one day someone stops contacting you and you wonder if maybe they met their end or maybe they've just decided they don't need you in their life anymore. It's so much easier to believe the second thing, to believe that a person is off living a happy life without you, rather than consider the alternative. But being attached to someone, if anything happens, you  _have_  to know. Because you can't just come back one day, years later, and maybe they're there and maybe they're not. If anything happens to them, you're one of the first to know, no matter where you are or what you're doing. And maybe I feel like it's better, not to know. To never know what happens to a person when you don't hear from them anymore. It's easier to ignore someone's passing when you're not attached."

There was a pause, maybe in part because Goldie realized her pep talk had gotten quite self-absorbed and a little sappy. And maybe in part because this was all a lot for Webby to process and she was trying to figure out how all of this related to her current problem.

"Listen to me, ranting to a however-year-old about my love life. Or lack thereof. Shows how much social interaction I get on a daily basis. Okay, kid needs some real relationship advice. Get it together, Goldie, you've been around the block enough times. You still there? Or did you doze off listening to this old hen?"

"Hanging on every word!"

Oh, if only Goldie knew how fantastically wonderful it was for Webby to be speaking to one of her idols. Although whether she would have been proud or discouraging of someone Webby's age potentially wanting to follow in her footsteps was debatable.

"Let's start over. Love is... complicated. First off, don't be like me, and don't run away. Run  _towards_. Love is a beautiful and special thing that you can share with someone. It doesn't have to be just one someone your whole life, and sometimes it can be more than one someone at a time. Okay, maybe I'm overcomplicating things. Are you sure there's no one else to advise you on your love troubles?"

"Everyone else knows who I- who I'm-"

"Who you're trying to figure out if you're in love with, right?"

"Right."

"I'll do my best, but if it all goes terribly wrong, I'm warning you in advance that I'm no love guru."

"You're the best resource I have."

"And you know that because Scrooge and I "had a thing"?"

"Plus you overpowered my grandmother and I, and I have a fierce admiration for strong, independent women."

"Strong independent women don't always make the best lovers," Goldie mumbled, half to herself. "Well, it's kind of like that thing I said earlier. You worry about the person, when they're not with you. When you can't see them. You worry about their well-being more than your own, most days, even if they're perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. You know that they have everything they need and they're surrounded by people who will help take care of them. You shouldn't worry, because they're probably safe and sound, but how can you be sure 100% of the time if you're not there?

"So it's a feeling of always wanting to be near a person to make sure you can protect them. No matter how strong or stubborn they pretend to be, you want to be there, just in case. It makes you feel better, knowing they're secure and warm in their bed every night. And you're there, in the bed next to them, snuggled up close, just as it should be.

"And it's keeping little reminders of them. Like maybe they gave you something small and insignificant or stupid or cheap, but it came from them and so it's special. Maybe you were out for a walk and they picked you a flower, and it's just a flower that was growing wild and cost literally nothing, but you press it carefully between the pages of a book so you can preserve that fragile moment.

" _Stupid_  little stuff like that, little reminders of that person. You never want to forget them, so you scatter around little mementos. Things that just pop up in your day and remind you that they exist and let you think of them. It's all a bit sappy, honestly, but it's fine because nobody else understands the meaning of those things, only you, so nobody else gets to know what that thing or that person means to you. Like a secret you share, even if the other person doesn't know.

"It's watching the rain falling outside and sitting by the window wishing you could be next to the one person you care most about. Wishing you could share this moment, that you could both be sheltered and warm inside and with each other. It's such an insignificant situation, but you know it'd feel better if you were together.

"Sometimes it's something as mundane as noticing how nice the weather is and wanting to invite the person you love to take a walk with you. Maybe get lost in the woods somewhere, or explore someplace you both have never been before. And maybe the spot you find yourselves walking to isn't magical and maybe there isn't a physical treasure to be found there. But it's at the end of that path you forged together that you realize that person was the greatest treasure of all, all along.

"Love is a feeling that nobody can take away. And you can't get rid of it, no matter how hard you try. It sticks with you, stronger than any curse, although some days it even feels like one. It makes you feel all warm and gushy on the inside, no matter how tough and brave you portray yourself on the outside. It doesn't make any sense; there's no specific scientific reasoning behind it, so you just have to deal with it. And you can talk about it like a reasonable person, or ignore it and just let it eat away at you for years.

"Anyway, it's not something that has one strict, defined definition. Love is something you feel, like other emotions, except  _way_  more complex. If you feel like you might be in love, you probably are. But you don't have to rush it. You're like- well, you're young, I know that. Probably too young to be taking relationship advice from me, of all people. Although you were smart enough to figure out how to contact me, and you had enough guts to go through with it, so who knows? Still, take time to let the relationship grow. But not so long that you lose the person you're in love with."

"If I'm sure I love her, how do I tell her?"

"You just come out and say it! It's-" Goldie chuckled to herself, and though Webby couldn't see her, she was shaking her head incredulously, "-so easy! I mean, it's harder for some than others, but it's the best thing for the future of your relationship if you come right out and say how you feel. So if you love her, tell her."

"Are you sure I can't just write it in a card or on a box of chocolates or leave her a note or create an intricate puzzle that will ultimately reveal my feelings?"

"You  _can_  do all those things, but  _saying_  it, especially for the first time, is so much more meaningful. I say it's easy, but sometimes it can take a lot of courage. Some people who are in love never work up the nerve to say it. But if you really believe it, and you don't say it... you'll regret it."

Goldie pulled the phone away for a moment to let out a heavy sigh, far away from Webby's eager listening ear. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to pull herself together so she could wrap up the conversation. This kid really got her thinking about things she didn't want to be thinking about right now.

"Oh, and hon? Don't tell Scrooge about our chat, hm? He'll either think I've gone soft or that I'm trying to be a bad influence,  _both_  of which  _may_  be true but neither of which I want him to know. So let's keep it between us, and maybe we can do this again sometime."

"I won't, er,  _Miss_  O'Gilt."

"Just Goldie is fine."

"Really?"

"That's my name, isn't it? I'm not old enough for you to be calling me 'Miss' anything. At least, I don't want to feel like I am."

"Okay."

"Webby, was it?"

"Yes?"

"What's her name?"

"Her name is Lena."

"Text me how it works out with Lena."  _Beep._

**Author's Note:**

> Goldie needs to take her own advice, doesn’t she?


End file.
